


Reluctant Heroes

by IShipYouNot



Category: RWBY
Genre: Crime AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 11:31:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8100787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IShipYouNot/pseuds/IShipYouNot
Summary: Crime AU. Team RWBY - comprised of a monster dog, a murderer, the top pin in the Black Market's empire, a shadow manipulating assassin, and a fire breathing arsonist boxer - are forced to fight together against powers meant to subdue them. And they hate every moment of it. Inspired by RetardedFool's "Killer's Instinct". (Please go read his stuff)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Killer's Instinct](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/230722) by RetardedFool. 



> A/N: Hey everyone! Ships here! As you probably read in the description (and if you didn't, you need to go back), this work was inspired by another writer! I wanna write chapter 2 but I have some work to catch up on for Jason Lantern's "Your Name" (I do the editing). In the meantime, drop a comment? Thanks and I'll get back to you as soon as I can!
> 
> P.S.: Blood, gore, general violence, much inappropriateness (not all in this chapter). Might start shipping later. Not for children. You've been warned.

The small apartment was dark, save for the flickering light of the TV screen. A lone figure wrapped in a deep red cloak, dozed on the couch. Claws clicked on the linoleum floor tiles, the giant animal they were attached to seating itself at the front door. A low growl emanated from its chest, causing the couch's occupant to stir.

“What is it, Zwei? Do you want to go for a walk?” a groggy female voice asked. Rising to stretch, she groaned as something popped in her back. Glancing over at the digital clock, she noted it was about ten at night, her shoulders slumping a little. “Jerk. You woke me up early again.” She received another growl in response. “I know, I know. I should sleep sooner,” she yawned as she rose from what constituted as her bed, her short hair sticking out at bizarre angles from bedhead. “I think you had more fun than I did, though,” she giggled, walking over to the giant mass of fur and scratching beneath what was probably his shoulder blade. The monstrous creature, allegedly named Zwei, had his head pressed against the ceiling, the bottom of his chin just high enough for her to walk under without ducking. For still being a pup, he was about as big as a Clydesdale and still growing. The rapid thumping of his foot made her laugh again, his back arching, trying to get her to scratch higher. Jumping away so she didn't get squished between him and the wall of the tiny hallway as he leaned towards her, she stepped into her red-trimmed combat boots as the beast let out a frustrated growl. “I know, you big fur ball. Come on,” she said as they stepped out into the cold night air. “Since I made you wait so long, we'll find something you can play with. I don't think we can go to that park again, though. You've killed most of the deer there and I think the rest moved to the mountains.” His long, wagging tail hit a car windshield as they passed by, shattering it from the impact. The girl's laughter could be heard as they disappeared into the darkness.

It was going to be a good night.

 

* * *

 

“Do you understand the ramifications of your failure yet, Mister Golding?” The feminine voice, frosted with disappointment, chilled most people to the bone. Military veterans were no exception and, as he stared at her with the one good eye that hadn't been swollen shut, he prayed for the torture to end soon.

“Yes, Miss Schnee.” So far, he had been stripped naked, beaten with boards and leather strips, made to stand for hours on glass in the rain at night, branded, stabbed, waterboarded, woken repeatedly for days when he tried to sleep, among other things. As it stood now, being handcuffed to a cinder block and being forced to sit on it was one of the easier punishments he'd suffered so far. Boot camp had prepared him for being a POW to a foreign nation, but not to his employer. Icy blue eyes bore into his hazel, frowning lips stretched into a thin line, and he suddenly regret the answer he gave as she turned to a table behind her, her platinum, off-set ponytail swaying with the motion.

“You do?” she said, reaching into a suitcase and removed a small object. She held it up to inspect it outside of the bright ring above him. He couldn't make out what the object was, but the hungry smirked she donned when she glanced over her shoulder at him told him all he needed to know. “I believe a final demonstration is in order before you return to your post.” The initial chill her voice created made his heart pound in fear, the secondary wave as she walked towards him stole his breath and what remained of his courage. Whatever she had planned for him would either kill him, or do enough permanent damage to make him useless to her. Squatting in front of him so they were eye to eye, she held up a small vial of red powder in a black leather gloved hand, the upper half of the palm cut away. “Do you know what this is, Lieutenant?”

A trick question. “Fire Dust powder, Ma'am.” He didn't dare look away from that piercing gaze. Distractions meant death, and he didn't intend to die, if he could help it. Thank God she was wearing a suit.

“Very good, soldier. And what were your orders?” Of course. She was playing a cat and mouse game with a mouse that was nearly dead and backed into a corner with no chance of escape.

“To protect the shipment from the White Fang and rival companies, Ma'am.” He was doomed.

“And what happened exactly?” She knew. She had always known. From the moment the attack began, she had every single moment on camera, knew the name and rank of every soldier assigned to the task, knew what cargo she could be expecting; date and time of departure and arrival, weight, and worth.

“I failed my mission, Ma'am.” While he wasn't sure what was going to come next, he had a few guesses, and he didn't like any of the outcomes.

“That you did, soldier. That you did. And do you know how I tolerate failure?” she whispered as she uncorked the vial.

“You don't, Ma'am,” he replied evenly as she began pouring the Dust on his bare legs. Sweat beaded on his brow as he realized she intended to give him the worst possible outcome that he would still live through.

“Right again. I. Don't.” She had spread most of the Dust around areas where it would sit and burn the longest, mostly the tops of his legs, shoulders, arms, chest, and back. Oddly enough, she avoided his groin for reasons he didn't really want to inquire about. “Would you like a little insight as to the purpose of this last punishment?” This was not a situation he had heard of happening before. Was this a trick question? Would there be a follow-up punishment if he couldn't figure it out? “This is not a test, soldier. I don't expect you to be smart enough to figure it out yourself.” He, apparently, had been silent for too long if she took it upon herself to ask again, and that was as bad as answering incorrectly.

“Yes, Ma'am. I'm not smart enough to figure it out.” It's not as though admitting it would save him any suffering, but in rare cases she would speed up the process if she was in a good mood.

“Very well,” she grinned at him, teeth shining brightly in the light above him. “Think of your body like the city. In it there are my workers, investors, customers, my product, money, and family. Now think beyond that. What is in the city that's valuable to you?”

This was becoming more and more dangerous for him. “My own family, Ma'am.”

“Exactly. And do you know what happens when dangerous things I invest in, like Dust, military technology, and money, fall into the hands of my enemies?”

Yes or no, yes or no? “No, Ma'am.” She frowned. Wrong answer.

“You don't? What a shame. They target me, darling. And if they can't get to me because people like you are doing their damned job correctly,” she growled, “they go after things you love that I would otherwise be able to protect.” The Dust had begun to irritate his skin as fire dust naturally does. “When people I hire continue to fail me, my enemies gain power. When they think they have enough power, they will come against me and the city will burn with everything in it. Tell me Lieutenant, do you want your family to burn like you are now?”

Using her aura, she triggered a reaction with the Dust, causing it to sting as though burning coals had been placed on him instead. The heat of the Dust on his legs created mild burns on the lower portions of his abdomen and neck that it hadn't settled directly on. Biting back his screams was out of the question at this point as death would be a welcome option. Unfortunately, that wasn't one she was willing to give him. Whether she let him scream for thirty seconds or three minutes, he couldn't tell. It all felt like eternity as the burning smell of his flesh filled his nostrils. Eventually she allowed him a small relief. Taking out another vial from the suitcase, she poured a palm full of the blue Dust into her bare hand. Walking back over to the soldier writhing on the floor, she turned her palm over and activated her aura creating another Dust reaction, this time covering him in a small pile of snow, relieving some of the burning sensation.

“Take him to the infirmary and give him basic treatment. He is to report to me 7200 hours after he regains consciousness.”

“Yes, Ma'am!” the soldiers on guard said in unison as they saluted her retreating form, before tending to their fallen comrade.

 

* * *

 

 

From the Sky Bar, Blake stared down into the boxing ring Junior had installed on the lower level. The Sky Bar was literally just a balcony that allowed patrons with special requests to make them with maximum privacy. They could be anything from black market dealings to information pandering to even contracting hit men. Even then, not just anybody with a special request could just walk up here. You had to be a regular customer with requests that put your name on a priority listing. The unspoken rule was that you also paid on time. At the moment she only had one need; she was just waiting on the right bartender.

“There's the Duchess,” a low voice said behind her. A large bearded man with a linebacker's build stood behind the counter in a suit and tie, minus the suit jacket, his black gloved hands pouring her standard drink.

“And the Bear finally makes his appearance. How has business been?” the ravenette inquired as she turned to face her broker, her black, knee-length dress accentuating the curves of her wide hips and full bust. The long slit in the side, riding high nearly to her hip did not go unnoticed by the male population at large.

“Better for some,” he murmured dejectedly as he poured her a shot of black absinthe.

Quirking an eyebrow, she fixed him with a sharp look before downing her drink. “So you don't have my information.”

“Don't be foolish. You're my best customer. However, it cost me more men than I would really have liked.” It was his turn to glower as some of them had actually been useful.

“How much?” she asked before downing yet another glass. This one burned quite a bit and, not that she wasn't fond of it, but the spicy kick in the aftertaste made her cat ears bury themselves in her hair as she scrunched her nose in detest. Junior's bar had a policy that, if you paid a certain price or were a special kind of patron, you got one shot of your choice and got a try one of his choice, both on the house.

“Noted; don't serve you scotch again,” he said as he turned to place the bottle back on the shelf. Returning to the space in front of her, he continued, “Add two to our previously agreed price and I'm willing to cut my loses.”

“A little pricey for a few grunts.”

“The few that were actually good at getting your information for quite a while. It's not going to be easy to replace them.” She stared at him and he stared back, both willing the other to break. This lasted until the crowds on the lower levels erupted in a mixture of cheers and boos as the match they had been watching came to a close, some losing on quite a bit of money by the sound of things.

Blake closed her eyes and sighed. “Deal.” It wasn't often she folded, but it couldn't be denied that the stakes ran high when she asked for things. This was one of the few times something she'd invested in had gone south and she couldn't quite break even. “I'll have the money to you by the end of the week.”

He slid a simple USB port across the counter to her. “Glad we could do business,” he said, keeping his voice even as he turned to leave. It wasn't nearly enough to replace them, but she wasn't a patron he was willing to push his luck around. She was the Shadow of Death after all. He didn't want to go missing in the middle of the night over some money and he'd be damned if he let her mess with his business. About half of his men got lost just driving to work. Bunch of morons.

“One more thing before you go, Little Bear,” she smirked, knowing just how much that name ground his gears. When he turned to glare at her, she continued, “Why make such large adjustments to such a nice dance floor?” She didn't have to gesture to the gaping hole in the ground floor or the basement floor where the ring resided. It was fairly new, even though most people had already heard the news within the first two weeks. He turned his body to face the ring, and then brought his gaze in that direction, too.

“In about ten minutes, there's a patron that also frequents this section of the bar that will be stepping into the ring. I have a special agreement regarding information bartering with this one. No one down there has seen her fight yet unless they were here before the bar closed for massive renovations. If you want to pay off your next few requests ahead of time, betting on the golden dragon would be a very good idea.”

“And how will I know who this 'Golden Dragon' is? I doubt that's their title.”

He gave her a knowing smirk. “That's the fun of it, isn't it? Sorry Duchess, but you have to hunt this one yourself if you want to win this game. Go down to the locker rooms and find them. It'll be rather obvious once you get there. You have to place your bet before the match begins, though. It's the rule for fighters who haven't made a name for themselves yet.”

She glared at him for a moment before she smirked. “You may have just lost your own game, Little Bear.”

“I highly doubt that.” He really couldn't fathom it. She wasn't here long enough to know any of the fighters, and she hadn't been here the night his establishment had been torn to pieces. How could he have lost?

She flashed him a toothy grin as she sauntered up to him on the customer side of the counter. “You said 'her' at one point and I don't believe there would be many female fighters in this particular setting.” The deepening scowl on his face told her she was right. “While you're kicking yourself for your slip up, I'm going to catch myself a dragon,” she laughed as she began to walk away.

“Do yourself a favor,” Junior began. Blake paused, turning slightly so he knew he had her attention. “Don't let her catch you. I'd hate to lose one of my best customers because they poked a monster with a stick.”

The cat's toothy grin returned as she laughed at him. “I'll let you know when I find a monster scarier than me.” And with that, she proceeded to the lower levels.

 

* * *

 

 

Yang was ready. Many of the male contenders had already had their matches because, as Junior had put it, “Save the best for last.” She did end up having to put one out of commission though, as being the only girl in the changing rooms happened to garner a lot of unwanted attention. Hands off just didn't get through to these guys, it seemed. At one point, she saw a girl with black hair come through the door, but lost track of her as people passed in front of her line of sight. She had debated going to look for her, but decided that if she was another fighter, then she would have to fend for herself. She didn't have the build for it though, and was wearing a dress of all things. Yang shook her head at the sheer stupidity of the idea, her long blonde hair bouncing with the movement.

She flexed her arm in annoyance, the dragon tattoo spreading from wrist to shoulder to hip moving with her bulging muscles. For the moment, she was just going through the motions, practicing every hit and combination she knew, but it was getting boring. She had been in here for two hours! How much longer was she supposed to wait?! Frustration and impatience gnawed at her, giving her cause to hit the warm up bag harder and harder until it spun and she put her fist through the weakened seam on the side. “Dammit,” she muttered, fist still buried in the compacted sand.

“My, my. I'm impressed,” purred a silky smooth voice from the shadows, as a slow clap followed. Blood boiling, Yang viciously removed her hand from the bag, slinging sand in a horizontal arc, aiming to catch her unwelcome spectator off-guard and following up with an immediate round house, both of which failed to connect. Looking around frantically for her target, she growled low in frustration.

“It's pretty underhanded to try to knock off the competition before the actual fight,” the blonde said a little louder than she probably needed to.

“Now why would I knock off the person I'm looking to invest in?” the voice purred again. Yang turned quickly to find her target on the other side of the room. “And you don't have to yell. I can hear you just fine.” Focusing a little, Yang could somewhat separate her from the shadows surrounding her, but a lot of things seemed off. This was definitely the girl in the dress from earlier though., that much was certain.

“Invest in? Who are you?” the brawler pried cautiously, not yet ready to lower her hands. Whoever this person was, they were fast.

“Who am I? What a strange question.” And like that, Yang was on the floor with both arms pinned and the shadow girl straddling her chest with a dagger to her throat. A lot of things came into focus for Yang thanks to the light above her, including the cat ears, bright golden irises, and sharper than normal canines. “Do you recognize me now?”

Yang smirked. “Nope.” Blake glowered at the girl beneath her. Know her or not, most people were cowed by the idea of having a weapon pointed at them, but she seemed perfectly comfortable with it, like this was exactly what she was looking for. “Didn't your parents ever teach you not to play with fire?” the blonde asked as her sparkling lilac eyes began to glow a bright red.

“No. They didn't stick around that long,” Blake smiled ruefully. “Too bad, I may have turned out to be a good kid if they had.”

“Well, here's the lesson they should have taught you; YOU GET BURNED!” Yang yelled as she erupted in flames. Blake was smart enough to know what happens when you play with fire and leaped back as quickly as the position allowed. She did not know the brawler had an affinity TO fire. That probably would have made a difference with the proximity in which she decided to engage the blonde. 'Junior, you sneaky bastard,' Blake thought and the stinging between her legs became more noticeable. She had to laugh a little at herself; he didn't call her a dragon for nothing. “What are you laughing at, you damned cat?”

“You're as clever as the Devil and twice as pretty,” she smirked. “However, keep up the name calling and I'll keep my offer to myself,” Blake growled. She was all for assuring her victory, but this damn kid was really starting to irk her. “If you must know, you've exceeded my expectations, and I can see how Junior lost a good portion of his assets to you.”

“Okay, first of all, that bastard had to be in all kinds of drag if you're calling him pretty. And seeing what Junior 'lost a good portion of his assets to' is not worth coming down here to pick a fight with me, unless you're a special kind of insane. Third, if your offer includes sex, thanks but no thanks. Although, you're a nice piece of eye candy even when you're trying to kill me.” Yeah, she got those weirdos who wanted to do weird BDSM crap with her. Unfortunately for everyone else, being born with big tits didn't automatically make her interested in every dick that was offered.

“Yeah? I could say the same about you as most people don't pick a fight with Schrodinger's Cat. Or the Shadow of Death, Midnight Marionette. Take your pick.”

“Oh, so that's who you are. No wonder you aren't scared of me.”

“Knowing who I am doesn't make a difference to you, does it.”

“Nope. I just know you're fun to play with and nice to look at.”

The bell rang, signaling the end of another match. “What is your agreement with Junior?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“You have five hundred bets against you and zero for you.”

“So?”

“I'm willing to bet on you if you're actually going to win. And you get half the profit.”

“I have to win two matches in a row for the information I want. After that I'm done with here for a while. Why are you offering me this?”

“I'm using you to pay off my own debts. It's only practical to give you an extra incentive.”

“Don't abuse the privilege. How will I get the money from you?”

“I'll let Junior know what I will owe you on the condition that you win. He'll be sure to withhold the exact amount from my winnings. And don't worry,” she said as she pulled her dress to the side, showing off her burned legs, “I'm not going anywhere for a little bit. You've got a nasty temper for an overdeveloped lizard.”

“You're just pissy because you didn't know what you were messing with.”

“I won't make that mistake twice.”

“I'll hold you to it, Kitten. For now, I have some competition to squash. Maybe we can play again sometime,” Yang sassed as she turned and strutted out the door to the arena.

 


End file.
